


Necklace of the Kadan

by commanderlurker (honeybee592)



Series: OTP: You're the boss [15]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood, F/M, Necklace of the Kadan, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8326585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: Despite Grace asking, the Iron Bull doesn't tell her how qunari show deep affection for one another, just says they don't. She doesn't believe him so she tries to find out for herself. She uncovers the truth--or what she thinks is the truth--and sets out with her team to fight a dragon and claim its tooth.
Other warnings: sex against a dead dragon, lots of blood but not really in a bloodplay way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting in my drafts for a year and a half and finally got round to sorting it out for Bull/Inquisitor week on tumblr.

Grace refused to believe Bull’s frustratingly vague comments about qunari not showing affection to each other. She couldn’t believe that they didn’t have _any_ way of showing someone they cared, of letting them know they were special. _Everyone_ felt love. They had to, regardless of what Bull said. Qunari couldn’t be _that_ heartless. And since Bull wasn’t going to help, she set off to find out for herself. Only, she didn’t have any other qunari hanging around Skyhold. Or anywhere, really. Krem might have an idea though, having spent enough time around Bull to have perhaps picked up on any cultural traits. But how to ask him? She needn’t have bothered being coy; he cut straight to the point.

Her stomach heaved at the smell of the chasind sack mead in her cup. Definitely brewed in a sack. How these guys drank this stuff was beyond her. Krem gave Grace a leery drunken smile.

“You want to propose to the old bastard, then?” He clinked her cup with his. “Good for you.”

Grace sat up straight, glancing around the tavern to make sure no one heard. Once she was sure they were being ignored, she leant in. “How did you know we were even together?” she whispered. They’d been so careful. Surely no one could know.

“Chief told me.” Krem took a swig. “Said he had a moral quandary and swore me to secrecy.” After a prompt from Grace, he cleared his throat and continued. “Said, ‘Krem de la Krem. Riddle me this. If I were fucking a high up person in the Inquisition, would you expect us to still get paid?’ And I looked at him in the eye and said, ‘is it part of the job?’ He smiled, ‘Nope. The pleasure is all mine.’ So I said, ‘then let the gold rain down. I’m not fighting demons for free!’” Krem burst out laughing, slamming his cup down, spilling that vile mead over the table.

Grace grimaced and backed away. At least Bull cared. That counted for something. But Krem’s whispered conspiracy didn’t tell her how he knew that the high up person was _her._

“How do you know he’s not with Josephine? Or… Cullen, even!” she asked.

Krem gave that lopsided smile again. “He didn’t need to give a name. But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Grace felt only slightly okay with Krem’s promise. If _he_ could tell, then who else could? She sipped at her drink, just to give her something to do. She still hadn’t gotten an answer about how qunari show affection. That lead her back to Krem’s initial assertion.

“I’m not proposing to him, by the way. I just want to let him know that I… care for him. And I thought that maybe giving him a qunari gift would let him know how much he means to me.”

‘Aww. You love him.” Krem slurred.

Grace blushed and panicked a moment before realising he was just teasing her.

“So, do you know or not?” she demanded.

“Know what?”

Grace sighed. Drunk people. “What gifts qunari give each other when they care deeply for one another.”

“Oh. No idea. Sorry. Bull’s never gone steady before. Not like this.” Krem took a drink, tilting his head back, and back, before pulling the cup away. “Empty!” He stood, swayed. “Want another?”

“No thank you. You can have mine.” Grace passed her still full cup over. “Thank you for your help. I doubt it will be necessary for me to ask that you not mention this conversation to Bull.”

Krem grinned, patted the side of his head. “Forgotten already, your Grace.” He gave a her a wonky salute and Grace slipped out of the tavern.

She breathed in the mountain air, cool and refreshing after the stale heat of the tavern. So much for that idea. She looked to the training ground. Cassandra worked through a series of exercises, wielding her sword to disembowel an imaginary enemy. Bull did the same thing, training. He used his big axe though, not a training axe. And he kept that axe wedged in the headboard of whichever bed he slept in. Maybe an appropriate gift would be a new headboard or two…He was a warrior at heart, yes. But he was also a qunari, tal-vashoth or no. She would get him something appropriate to his race. She needed knowledge, then.

With a determined nod, she headed towards the keep, the library in her sights.

*

She avoided Dorian’s nook, heading through the keep’s outside paths to pop in the library on the far side. She whispered a hello to funny librarian and started casually perusing the shelves. She had no idea where to start or what system was used. She wasn’t about to ask, either, so she walked up and down the aisles, stopping every so often to run her finger over a few spines and hum like she knew what she was doing.

She didn’t know what she was doing. After fifteen minutes and a round of dusty sneezes, she considered approaching the librarian. Maybe she could ask for books on a number of topics, including qunari, so as to not arouse suspicion. Yes, she could ask about books on the Dalish, Dwarves, Qunari…

“Hello Gracie!”

Grace jumped and squeaked at Dorian, standing right behind her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.” His smirk told her that he did indeed intend to give her a fright. “Looking for something? Maybe I can help? I did create most of this library after all, and I do spend most of my time rearranging it to the correct specifications.” He said that last part though gritted teeth with a sidelong glance at the librarian.

“Books on the Dalish, Dwarves, and Qunari.” She spoke like she read from a list and didn’t blink.

Dorian gave her a strange look then stroked his chin. “Care to narrow down the specifics?”

She shook her head.

“Hmm. Well there’s not much on the Dalish…” He wandered away and Grace followed. He pointed out books on Dalish customs, a diary from a city elf who lived with a clan for a while, a book of Keeper’s spells that Dorian said was all hogwash and clearly a fake, a huge tome on the Dwarven caste system, a three volume set detailing the genealogy of Paragon Ebryan, “and this racy little number about forbidden love.” Dorian waggled his eyebrows.

“Is it about qunari?” Grace asked, hoping her excitement hadn’t bled through to her voice.

“Hmm, no. It’s about a duster and a paragon. Moving stuff. Why do you want books about qunari, anyway?”

“And Dwarves and Dalish,” Grace added.

“Yes, Qunari, Dwarves, and Dalish.” Dorian folded his arms and annunciated each syllable, clearly suspicious.

“I just want to learn about the different races of Thedas.” She smiled, bright, showing her teeth.

“If you want to know about Qunari, why don’t you ask Bull?”

_Dorian, please!_ “Because he doesn’t actually know everything! Okay? Can you please just show me where the qunari books are?”

Dorian laughed. “Oh ho, just you wait until I tell him you said that.” Then he darted off again to a different set of shelves. Grace followed, sweating and angry. “This is all we’ve got I’m afraid.” He stood in front of a shelf with three books. Three measly books and one of them was a thin as a blade of grass.

“Thank you, Dorian.” She waited for him to leave but he just stood there. She leveled him with a glare. “ _Thank you_ , Dorian.”

He hopped. “Oh, that was the Inquisitor’s ‘dismissed’ thank you. My apologies.” And finally he left her alone.

She didn’t stay long anyway, just grabbed all three books, stuck her head around the corner, ascertained that Dorian was back to being nose deep in a book, and ran out the library.

*

Five candles and ten inky fingers later, Grace finally found what she was looking for. She had to read the page three times just to make sure she got it right. A dragon tooth, split in two and made into a necklace. A dragon’s tooth? From a dragon? That’s how qunari showed each other they cared? Where in the Maker’s name would she find a dragon? _How_ , in the ever lasting love of Andraste, would she get a _dragon tooth_ out of a _bloody dragon_?

Smokey wandered across the book and bumped his head against Grace’s chin.

“Yes, I know, a dragon.” She sighed. Maker, why couldn’t qunari do gold rings like everybody else.

*

Grace spotted her target as said target left the tavern. She walked over--resisting the urge to run--and greeted Harding with a bright smile. After brief pleasantries and talk of the weather, Grace wrung her hands and asked the question. “Have you seen any dragons around lately, by chance?”

“Dragons?” Harding looked at Grace like she’d just asked her if she’d seen any, well, dragons. “Well, there is that one near Crestwood. Northern Hunter, they call her.”

“She’s still there?” Grace could’ve slapped her own face. How could she have forgotten? She’d sat with Bull and watched that beast eat a druffalo, for Maker’s sake.

“Yeah. Left for a while but now she’s back. The farmers are pretty annoyed, as you can imagine. Worse than a rift, they say. Hey, if you’re heading that way, maybe you could, you know, gain a few points for the Inquisition by killing her.”

Grace grinned. Harding, what a life saver, putting the words straight into Grace’s mouth. “That is an _excellent_ idea.” She pumped Harding’s hand. “Thank you, Harding. Thank you so much.” Then she ran off to the war room to prepare.

*

She didn’t actually mention the dragon when she spoke to the advisors. Nor did she mention it to Varric, Dorian, and Bull. No way she would take Cassandra; she’d drag Grace away by her ear if she knew they were going to fight a dragon. So she palmed her idea off as a tour of good faith, to remind the people of Crestwood just how much the Inquisition had already done for them, and the work they would continue to do. They would stop in at a few donor’s houses along the way, have tea, make polite chat, and leave with the Inquisition’s reputation glowing.

They headed out three days later and Grace hoped to all the gods that she wasn’t about to get killed.

*

Freshly rested and recently breakfasted, Grace lead the group through the outskirts of Crestwood. Village talk had been of the dragon. It lived in the ruins of an old town, long since abandoned. Jadern had lost three druffalo this month. The beast had even taken off with Judith’s beloved Moggy. That sealed the deal for Grace. The dragon had to die. She met Bull’s sidelong pleading glances at every mention of the dragon with a shrug. She couldn’t let on, not yet, not when Dorian and Varric could still back out. He’d be ready when the time came. They all would be. She’d made sure everyone had topped up their supplies of healing potions and poultices (“You know what the wildlife is like here”), and had spent the evening preparing her poisons and grenades. They hadn’t gone far when a shadow swept over the ground and the air whumped.

She looked up. They all looked up. Deep orange bleeding into purple, a long whip of a tail and wide, wide wings flew by.

“A dragon! It’s the dragon! Oh shit, are we going to fight it, boss? Can we? Please?” Bull bounced on his toes. Grace hadn’t know he was capable of puppy eyes until now.

Dorian spoke up. “We are not fighting a dragon. That’s just madness.”

“I’m with Sparkler on this one. This is a little too crazy, even for you.”

Grace turned on her companions. “We’re doing it. If you two aren’t interested then you can go back to to the village and wait for us.”

Dorian and Varric shared a glance, looked at Grace, Bull, the direction the dragon had gone, and back to each other.

Varric shifted from one foot to the other. “Uh, Tiny? Your excitement is showing.”

Bull snapped his attention from the dragon in the distance to Grace. His nostrils flared and his chest puffed up. In one smooth motion, he picked her up and pressed her back against the stone wall behind them.

“Leave us,” he growled.

Dorian and Varric stood there, speechless, while Grace squeaked.

Bull turned to stare them down. “Dorian. Varric. I am going to fuck this woman against this rock and for her sake, I’d like to do it without an audience. Once we’ve pulled our breeches back up, then the four of us go and fight the dragon. Okay?”

Dorian opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before working his tongue free. “Are you okay with this, Gracie?”

“You heard the man! Go away!”

Varric chuckled and Dorian had to dragged away by the belt toop. Bull waited until they’d dipped out of sight before crushing Grace with a kiss so hard she had no option but to kiss back with as much force, lest she be squashed against the wall. His beard pricked her lips and chin, making her eyes water, but she didn’t care. An urgent, desperate need thrummed through her. She grabbed his horn and pulled his face against hers, not letting him go until they’d both taken their fill. Bull leaned back, panting, eye blown black.

“Two things. First, are we really going to fight the dragon?”

Grace nodded.

“Good. Second, I meant what I said about fucking you, but now they know.”

“I don’t care who knows about us Bull, just take me, please.” She kissed him again.

He dropped her to the ground and four hands picked apart belt buckles and buttons. Trousers, boots, then trousers again, hopping on one foot, then the other. He palmed her, rough fingers over her cunt but she was so wet they just glided over. Bull growled and together they divested themselves of enough clothes to make this work. He hoisted her back up against the rock, skin rubbing against the stone, his cock poking at her cunt. She forced herself to relax, to let him in, and despite his need, he didn’t push. He eased in, like always, like they weren’t outside against a stone wall with a field of draffalo on one side and a dragon munching on one of their brothers in another. Her cunt stung, sharp, and she clamped down, hissing.

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t need to go in. Just wrap your hand around me, yeah, like that, but harder, fuck, yes, perfect.”

He thrust into her hand and Maker did that feel amazing, hard and hot, smooth against her bare hand. With her other she held onto his horn. He got the message and kissed her, wet and sloppy, half not meeting her lips. His hands cupped her bottom and jiggled her up every so often. Her body burned, cunt twitching around nothing but it didn’t matter; his hands and cock and kisses were all she needed. Under her grip, his cock pulsed. He growled a warning and she slipped her hand up to close over the tip. Hot come splashed against her palm and she made a face, equal parts aroused and disgusted. He dropped her to her feet and she landed a little unsteady, legs weak from the pounding. Then he dropped to knees in the dirt and buried his face between her legs. Her turn to wail as he licked and nipped, rough--if it was possible for a tongue to be rough, but he brought her to an orgasm that had her seeing stars.

He fell back on his haunches, hands on her waist, grinning up at her, beard wet, teeth gleaming.

“Bull, you look--” _awful_ was the truth considering their surroundings, but hardly endearing. “Debauched,” she said.

Bull laughed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Mmm, I’m gonna smell you for the whole fight. It’s gonna be good.” He growled and Grace shivered.

She wiped her handful of come on some grass and the pair started dressing. But Maker, that’d been fantastic. Like nothing they’d ever done before. Rushed and raw. Wild. Grace _liked_ it. As she pulled her trousers back on and buckled her belt and potions and daggers into place, she peeked around the corner to spy the dragon. It was still there, munching on something. Hopefully it’d be too full to fly.

“Shall I get the others?” Bull asked.

Grace nodded, keeping an eye on the beast. Maker, it was massive, even from this distance. Fortunately, she had a plan.

*

Unlike most plans Grace made, this one didn’t fall apart. But just because the fight was going according to plan, didn’t mean it was _fun._ She’d chewed through three poultices and had thrown a couple to Bull. Dorian and Varric danced around the battlefield, shrieking their own war cries, which sounded a lot like actual sobs at times. Grace didn’t blame them. She cursed this stupid idea and these stupid qunari and their stupid customs and bit back tears as her shoulder burned from firing arrow after arrow after arrow. At least Bull seemed to be enjoying himself. When he wasn’t laughing like a madman he was shouting in qunlat. He fought with a fervour that Grace had never seen from him before. Every swing of his axe met its target, precise, brutal, perfect.

He had to sidestep some poor victim’s carcass but he even made that look like a dance. A dangerous, terrifying dance, especially since move gave the dragon a chance to take a swing at him.

“Bull!” she cried, loosing of three arrows and hurling a grenade at the beast.

Bull roared--a roar to match that of the dragon--and hurled his axe. The dragon screamed. It’s breath set the air alight with fire and electricity. Or maybe that was Dorian’s doing. She allowed herself a glance at him. Apart from the sweat pouring down his face and his tousled hair, and the rips in his armour, he seemed to be doing fine. Varric, too. They might actually win this.

Bull kept the dragon’s attention on him, drawing it away from his squishier companions with bellowing taunts. He cleaved chunks off the dragon’s feet, slashed holes in its belly and cackled every time a scale hurtled off.

Varric’s poison-tipped bolts and Dorian’s fireballs rained down, but that wasn’t enough. As much as it terrified Grace, she had to get closer. That thing, so huge, stinking and spitting sparks, with huge horns that curled forward… Grace smashed a smoke bomb and scuttled forward, aided by the beating of the dragon’s wings. _Yes, draw me in_. Tucking her bow back and grabbing her daggers, she tipped them in pitch and poison both and stabbed. _Stab stab stab_. In and out, over and over, all along the neck. The dragon shook its head, screeching so loud that the air vibrated. From somewhere beside her, Bull whooped but Grace couldn’t catch the words. Wouldn’t’ve, even if her ears weren’t ringing.

One long, keening cry signalled the dragon’s admission of defeat. Grace didn’t let up, not until the dragon fell, earth thwumping, dust flying, its long neck like a fallen free. Bull didn’t hesitate, slashing at its neck, like he might actually be able to decapitate such a beast. But it didn’t matter. The dragon was dead. Dorian made sure by smiting its heart.

The air went still. Some birds flew overhead. Silence rang in Grace’s ears, her breath heavy, arms burning. She looked to Bull, his chest heaving that great axe slung over his shoulder, the tendons and veins popping from his muscles, blood smeared over his face and armour… something snapped in her body. Need, desperate and raw pulsed through her blood. She ran to Bull, catching him off guard and pushing him back until he hit the dragon’s warm but lifeless body. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on his armour, chests pressed together, lips hard against his. He caught up with what was happening and closed his hands around her waist, kissing back, hot and hard, with all the passion he’d displayed before the fight. She pulled back, gasping for air.

“Leave us,” she yelled behind her.

“What? Again?” Dorian called back.

“Go!”

With some more grumbling Dorian and Varric finally trudged off, leaving Grace and Bull alone at last. No that they’d waited for the others to leave before tearing off their armour. Grace’s skin was smeared with blood by the time she’d gotten down to her skivvies. Not her own blood. Some of it was Bull’s, but most of it had come from the dragon. Mixed with dust and mucus, she didn’t care. It sizzled her skin, unnatural, and she hoped it wouldn’t hurt her. Right now that burn fed her lust. The ache in her shoulders edged her on and she taunted the pain by grabbing onto Bull’s horns--so much like a dragon’s--and crushing her body against his.

“Grace… Fuck… You’re so…” Bull pushed her back--firm--for she wasn’t letting go, and yanked his trousers down to reveal his hard, smooth cock, already weeping and pulsing. Her mouth watered, she went to grab him but he grabbed her wrist. “Too soon.”

She didn’t know what that meant but Bull was pulling at her armour, thumbing buckles and buttons and throwing aside whatever came loose. Naked enough, she straddled his lap and sunk two fingers into her cunt. She shivered and arched, threw her head back. Maker she’d never done this before, never been so cavalier with her own body but if it felt this good then maybe she should start. Bull joined her, pushing one finger inside and latching onto her nipple with blood smeared lips. She wailed and shook, slipping her fingers out of her cunt to put them in Bull’s mouth. He nipped and sucked and shoved a second finger in her. It burned, but in a good way, not the sharp pain from before, a stretch, a raw ache that made her groan and rut against his hand.

She hadn’t realised he’d pulled her onto his cock until he started thrusting under her and the ache bloomed into a deep pleasure that shot through to her toes. She rode him, kissed him, bit at his neck and dug her fingertips into his skin. With every thrust and bite he grunted and growled her name, and with every slam onto his cock she moaned his.

Their pace matched that of the fight. Fast, fierce, nothing but the thrill of the fight and since when had Grace ever enjoyed fighting? She didn’t--unless it was with Bull. Only with Bull, when he grinned and yelled his warcries, did she enjoy the fight. And seeing him today, against that dragon--she shook and Bull shuddered, his fingers digging into her waist, smearing blood and viscera. She lost her grip on his shoulder and slammed into his chest, hand bracing against the dragon, scales cutting her hand. Blood, fresh blood. Her blood. She pressed her palm to the side of Bull’s face and rode him through his loud, quaking orgasm.

Just like the end of the fight, silence rained heavy over the site of their sex. Grace collapsed against Bull, sweaty and aching, but Bull winced, said something about pulling a muscle and being too old for this shit, and helped her off him. She flopped beside him, leaning against the dragon, the scales singeing her back.

“That was…”

“The best, Boss. The best.” Bull patted her on the thigh and let out a rumble. “Can we just stay here for a while? It’s so… peaceful.”

“Mmm hmm.” Grace had already closed her eyes, letting exhaustion take over, not even bothering to pull her breeches on.

*

By the time Grace woke, the sun sat low in the sky, long shadows cast over the plain where the dragon lay. Grace blinked a few times, confused as to where she was. Then she remembered. Bull still sat next to her, fast asleep, lips slightly parted. Her stomach growled. When had she last eaten? They should head back to Crestwood. Dorian and Varric might be worried. But, if they were really worried, they would’ve risked walking back over to check up on them.

The stink of death hung heavy in the air. Grace’s skin was sticky and sore as she made herself get up and pull on her breeches. She still unfinished business with this dragon. Best to do it when Bull was still asleep. His great axe lay next to him, propped up against the side of the dragon with his arm wrapped around it. With some difficulty, she prised it out of his grasp and dragged it over to the dragon’s head. With even more difficulty, she wedged a dagger into the dragon’s mouth and propped the jaw open, wedging the axe between two teeth to hold it in place.

She stood at its open mouth, assessing the teeth. Which one should she get? The biggest were as long as her arm and as thick as Bull’s thighs. Surely qunari didn’t wear dragon’s teeth that big. Finally she spotted one towards the back that looked to be a more reasonable size. Still massive though, she thought as she climbed in and started hacking out the tooth.

It only got bigger as she cut into the gum. She gagged, Maker, did it smell bad as well. Despite being covered in blood from herself, Bull, and the dragon, stinking of guts and sex, she kept going. She kept going for Iron Bull. That wonderful, caring, qunari who gave her more than she thought she ever get in this life. She kept hacking away at that bloody forsaken dragon’s tooth for _him_.

“Hey, Kadan. What’re you doing?”

Bull peered at her through the open mouth of the dragon. He rubbed his eye, half asleep still, dried blood smeared over his face and armour, trousers loose on his hips. She looked around for whoever Kadan was, but the only people around were her and Bull.

“I’m cutting out a tooth,” Grace said, looking away, embarrassed that she’d been caught and hoping he wouldn’t catch on.

“Uh. Okay. Do you want some help?”

“No, I’m fine. Almost done actually.” She wrapped her hands around the tooth and yanked. It broke loose and she fell back, rolling over the tongue and coming to a stop next to the axe. She looked up at Bull upside down. He looked down at her. They both grinned.

“We should keep the skull as a trophy,” Bull said, helping Grace out. “Mount it above your bed, and…” He stared up at the head. “That would be great.”

Grace held the precious tooth in both hands. “You’ll be thinking about it instead of me,” she joked.

Bull stroked Grace’s cheek, smearing the sweat, his expression suddenly soft. “Never. When I am with you, you are the only thing on my mind.”

Grace smiled so wide her cheeks hurt and despite her exhaustion, heat coiled between her legs again.

“We should head back to Crestwood. The others will be wondering what happened.” As much as she wanted to just stay here with Bull, night was closing in and her stomach reminded her that she needed to eat. Bull’s belly rumbled too, and once he’d pulled his axe free from the dragon’s mouth and Grace had picked up her remaining gear, they headed off, both walking slightly funny.

*

Dorian made a great show of telling the couple of much they stank. Though he also cared, because a cauldron of hot water hung over the fire in their house. Varric and Dorian turned their backs--for Grace’s sake--as the mighty dragon slayers gingerly wiped down their bodies. Time for a proper account of injuries. Scrapes and scratches, and that persistent burning from the dragon’s blood, but nothing that poultices and Dorian couldn’t fix.

Grace shoveled as much stew into her mouth as she could, as did Bull. They kept stealing glances at one another and giggling. That just made Varric snort and Dorian roll his eyes. Grace sobered up as Varric spoke, reality crashing through the wonderful, beautiful haze that had been so much of her day.

“I’m happy for you two, really, I am. You couldn’t make this shit up. Well, you could. The muscle and the princess is a common enough set up.”

“Varric,” Bull warned. He poked his spoon at both men. “Not a word. You hear me? Not. A. Word.”

Doran sighed and looked away. “Like I’d want to tell anyone about what I had to witness. Gracie, a brother should not see his sister naked.” He shuddered and Grace laughed, joy bubbling up again. She laughed at his disgust, laughed at his care, laughed that he considered her his sister.

Varric held his hands up in defence. “I get it, I know what’s riding on this. Uh, bad choice of words, but... My lips are sealed.” He ran his finger across his mouth. “I am curious though--”

“Varric!” Grace cried, and some somewhere in Bull’s direction, a potato caught Varric on the side of the head.

*

Back at Skyhold with more assurances that no one would find out of Grace and Bull’s forbidden passion, Grace set about cleaving the dragon tooth in half. She enlisted Harritt’s help because he didn’t ask questions and knew what he was doing. She wasn’t too worried if the tooth broke since the whole skeleton was on its way to Skyhold. Or she could hunt another dragon. She shivered at the prospect. Maker, she’d never felt a rush that intense before.

Harritt guided her, showed her how to use the tools but he hammered the silverite for the cappings. Painstaking work, hurting her fingers and making her head ache from concentration. Dagna nosed her way in, wanting to know what was happening, asking all sorts of questions that Harritt had been too polite--or disinterested--to ask. Grace blushed and finally admitted that it was a gift.

“Ohhhh. A ‘gift’” Dagna did an exaggerated wink. “Well let’s make it a proper gift then!” She set a rune in each half. “Life ward. Protects the heart from breaking.”

Once the runes had been set, Grace laid out the two halves on red velvet. The three workers stepped back and stare at their work. Murmurs of “magnificent” and “stunning” did the rounds. Grace’s heart flip flopped and she nawed and her lip. She wrapped up the halves and clutched them to her chest, feeling the warmth of the runes. She thanked Harritt and Dagna profusely and skipped up the stairs. Now to find the appropriate time to show Bull what he meant to her.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So it definitely needs a sequel, including the drinking scene! But I wanted to focus on the necklace and Grace getting the key piece.


End file.
